


Colder than this Home

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Gen, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Season/Series 13, Season/Series 13 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 12,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4760852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Epsilon broke inside Tucker's head. Shattered himself into almost a dozen of AI to save his friends.<br/>There were always going to be complications.</p><p>Drabbles considering a possible aftermath of Season 13 that transform into a narrative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been taking song lyrics from Halsey for titles as of late, so there's that! This one if from "Control"
> 
> Renaroo deserves credit for putting this idea in my head.

After Epsilon shatters in Tucker’s head, Tucker doesn’t wake up for two weeks.

It might be the worst two weeks of Wash’s life. 

When they landed, when they turned the corner to find all their friends alive, Wash had thought they’d been lucky for once. That he’d been lucky for once. For a glorious five seconds he saw his family stand strong and tall in the wreckage of those who tried to kill them. He thought they were safe.

Then Tucker let out a pale broken sound. Collapsed to his knees. And when Epsilon didn’t float out of the armor when Carolina asked for a status check, Wash knew what had happened at once.

It’s been years since Epsilon tried to kill himself in Wash’s head. Enough years to maybe forgive him. But looking at Tucker lying there on hospital sheets, damaged in ways none of them can fix, Wash is sure he will never forgive Epsilon for this. Even if Epsilon had no idea he’d settled in Tucker’s head instead of just his suit. 

He told Carolina that. Point blank. It’s the reason he now has a split lip and a black eye. 

Wash sighs and leans forward. Usually he’s not here during this time, the position of “Tucker Watch” occupied by Simmons. The cyborg couldn’t sit with Tucker today, like the rest of them he is busy with the new A.Is Epsilon left behind, trying to decide who can go with who while they sort out the whole process. Wash, long decided on his thoughts on A.I’s, was more than content to take his place.

That was an hour ago.

“Junior will be here in a week,” Wash says. There’s no response. “Now would be a great time to wake up; we still need a translator.” Still nothing. Wash leans his head forward against the bed rail. “Come’on Tucker, _please_.” 

The world isn’t like the movies. Tucker doesn’t rouse at that. But within an hour, Wash is lucky enough to be there when Tucker opens his eyes.

“Wash?” Tucker says and Wash’s head shoots up. He calls for a nurse, screams for one really, and crouches over Tucker’s bed. Lets himself smile.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Tucker, I thought I lost you.” The realization that he used “I” instead of “we” won’t hit him for an hour later. Tucker shakes his head.

“Lost are you-” he winces, reaching for his head. Shuts his eyes tight. Mutters for a second.

“Tucker?” Wash says. He can hear Grey run into the room behind them, sprinting with all she has. “Are you okay?”

Tucker opens his eyes again. Smiles. “No, fine. Just a headache.”

Over Tucker’s right shoulder, a flicker of flame begins to dance. 


	2. Chapter 2

One week after Tucker wakes up, one week after Wash thinks they’re in the clear despite Epsilon shattering in his skull and burying edges of data in soft brain tissue, Wash finds him running laps at two in the morning. 

His A.I was the one who woke him up. Despite having no desire to carry one, Epsilon left him one anyway, a short confused little thing by the name of Tau who was content to rest in his armor instead of his neural plants. He was one of the nine Epsilon left behind, one of the shards of emotion the AI had tried to save to protect them all. 

Wash still doesn’t know what emotion Tau is supposed to represent. But he thinks it might be protectiveness. Only because the AI pings until Wash wakes up from one of his first good nights of sleep in ages to whisper-

“I’m worried about Tucker.”

The fact he doesn’t call him Captain isn’t lost on Wash. 

Wash finds him in the training room. He can see why Tau was worried; Tucker is covered in sweat, his braids sticking to his forehead, his eyes wide and blown. Behind him floats his own AI, Kappa. Wash can hear the thing fret from his distance across the room.

“Tucker, slow down! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Carolina was positive Kappa was built on Faith. Wash can see why; the little purple figure reminds him a lot of Theta,  maybe a little older. 

“Tucker,” Wash says as the man laps him. Tucker doesn’t seem to notice, breathing heavily to take another step. Wash reaches out to grab his arm. “Tucker-”

It happens at once. Tucker grabs his wrist. Yanks. And soon enough, Wash finds himself staring up at the ceiling with confusion brought on by pure surprise. 

“Holy shit, Wash!” Whatever trance Tucker was in is gone now. He leaning over Wash, eyes wide an panicked. Kappa floats above his forehead. “I didn’t mean- are you okay?”

“His vitals are alright,” Kappa says, but he sounds uncertain. Wash shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet, brushing off his pants.

“I’m fine.” He looks to Tucker who’s still staring at him like he tried to stab Wash, instead of just flipping him. Wash looks at the way he’s breathing, the way his eyes are wide and frightened, and thinks back to himself, after Epsilon tore his head apart too. “Nightmares?”

“No,” Tucker says at the same time Kappa nods. Tucker notices, glaring up at his AI, but there’s no heat to it. 

“Way to sell me out dude.”

Kappa just shrugs.

Wash reaches for Tucker’s shoulder, guiding him forward. He’s not surprised when Tucker follows, lurching almost in his steps. “Look, let’s get you back to your quarters. Sit down. Talking about them here won’t help.”

Tucker snorts. “You wanna have a talk about our feelings? We gonna braid each other’s hair too?”

Wash rolls his eyes. “It’ll help. And while I’d rather have you talking to Grey, I think I can sit in until tomorrow.” Tucker looks away for a second, thinking it over, and Wash squeezes his shoulder. “Trust me.”

“Alright…” Tucker says. He looks down at his feet as they walk to his room. When he speaks, it's a whisper.“I guess I just feel like I’m losing control.”

Wash feels a gnaw of worry in his stomach. God, if he doesn’t know what that’s like. He just hopes Tucker he can help Tucker deal with it better than he ever did.

In the darkness, Wash doesn’t notice as an A.I made of hot flame appears behind Kappa before vanishing once more.  


	3. Chapter 3

It was Donut who approached Wash about learning how to fight.

Wash wasn’t quite sure what brought it on. After defeating Charon, after saving their planet, there was little fighting left for them to do, besides hunting Hargrove down, which was on hold until they got up supplies. Wash thought the Red solider would be taking this free time to take it easy, perhaps spend some time with Doc, or to start a new garden. He never considered he’d be thinking of the future over a year before they’d be able to ship out.

“If I knew how to fight,” Donut had said, voice firm when he’d corner Wash for the third time to ask him the same favor. “Maybe Church wouldn’t have had to fracture himself. Maybe he’d still be here.”

Even though Wash knew Donut was wrong, that Epsilon would have fractured himself into smaller AI’s to save his friends even if they’d had the best training in the world, the other solider wasn’t going to take no for answer. 

Donut wasn’t a bad fighter, Wash thought as Donut lunged towards him once more, trying to get in a good punch. In fact, he had quite a bit of strength to him that his friends lacked. Since getting Ksi from Epsilon, he’d only improved, the help of the fragment giving him an edge of creativity to every move he made. If Wash hadn’t been so experienced, it might have been an even fight.

Donut lunged forward again and this time, Wash grabbed him by his arm and twisted, forcing him to the ground. When Donut tried to throw him off, he tightened his hold, pressing his knee in Donut’s back to force him to the ground. Donut grunted as he hit the training mat and Ksi, a bright pink A.I appeared over him. 

“I thought that one would work,” the A.I muttered. Donut lifted his chin up and gave the hologram a large smile.

“I did too, man. It was a good plan.”

Wash let Donut free and helped him back to his feet. For a man who’d just gotten his ass kicked, he was still smiling rather wide. ‘It wasn’t a good plan. That lunge was risky. If I had a knife, it would have left you wide open.”

Donut fell back into his battle stance. “Risky business is brave business.”

Wash thought back to some of the stunts he’d pulled in Freelancer and was glad Donut was unaware of some of the stunts they had pulled. If he knew, he’d probably never take what he was about to say seriously. “There’s a difference between being brave and being stupid.” He fell into his own stance. “You ready?”

“You betcha!” Donut glanced over at the bracelet on Wash’s wrist. “Tau coming out anytime soon? Might be good for you two to practice?” 

Wash looked down at the bracelet. Thought of the A.I who’d finally convinced him to teach Donut. What he’d said.

“We can’t protect them forever.”

“I don’t think so,” Wash said, tearing his gaze from his wrist and turned it back to Donut. “Now, try again.”

This time, when Donut lunged, Wash couldn’t help but notice he’d gotten faster.


	4. Chapter 4

After they decided to spilt up the Fragments, Agent Washington made one rule; everyone only gets one at a time.

Sarge was never good at following rules.

“This is risky behavior, Colonel,” Zeta said as they walked into Carolina’s room. The A.I hovered over Sarge’s left shoulder, his armor the same color as the human he was assigned. Sarge didn’t listen, beelining straight for Carolina’s closet. “If you do this, there’s a 90 percent chance Carolina will beat you into a pulp.”

Sarge snorted. “I’ve worked with worse odds.” The closet was open now, and Sarge pawed past Carolina’s extra body suits to get to a small safe. He looked over to Zeta. “Mind helping me crack this lock, son. You got tinier fingers for it.”

Zeta looked at the lock. It’d be easy enough to break, Carolina hadn’t put a lot of security measures in place, but the thought of the redhead on their tail made him pause. He might not be able to feel the punch that was likely coming their way, but he had a feeling watching Sarge’s nose crack under Carolina’s fist would be unpleasant.

“Colonel-”

“Don’t Colonel me, robobits!” Sarge turned to look at him. “Look here. You’re a part of Red team now and that means you gotta follow three rules. First rule of Red team; Grif sucks.” He help up one finger. “Second rule; always call shotgun.” He held up one more. “And third-” He lifted his final finger, shoving it close to Zeta. “Leave no man behind. Even if they’re a dirty blue.”

Zeta looked at Sarge, then at the lock. “You could damage your neural-”

Sarge scoffed. “I’m not gonna put him in my head, you idiot. I’m just going to let him hang out in the armor. We got a slot for it.” He tapped the safe. “Now, get on it! It’s gotta be lonely in that box.”

Zeta stared at him for a minute. When Epsilon had shattered, had set him away labeled with Sarge’s name, it’d been so Zeta could reel the man in. Take care of him. Balance out all the recklessness with a little sense. It was supposed to be his one job; keep Sarge from getting himself (or anyone else) killed. Caution was of the most importance.

He looked down at the safe and flew into the lock. Some things, he supposed, were worth throwing caution to the wind.

The safe opened easy enough, the lid popping to reveal the data chip Rho was stored on. Zeta resumed his spot on Sarge’s shoulder as the man lifted up the chip and put it in one of the storage spots in his armor. Soon enough, a blue hologram flickered to life.

“Sarge!” Rho said, hands in the air. “I knew one of you would come.” He glanced over at Zeta. Even though he knew it wasn’t real, the A.I could almost feel himself smile.

“It’s always good to have a little hope.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Hello. My name is Rho-”

Carolina closes the box containing one AI chip before it can even finish it’s sentence.

“What is this?” She asks, turning to Simmons, her voice a growl. The Red solider’s in full armor, but given the way he flinches, she can tell he’s literally shaking in his boots. His A.I, a maroon thing Carolina can’t even stand to look at, whispers something in his ear.

“Are you kidding she’ll-” Simmons stops talking to his A.I when Carolina takes a step closer. The A.I itself flickers out, so much for representing confidence. Simmons doesn’t start to talk until she takes another step forward.

“It’s your A.I.”

Carolina bares her teeth, even though she knows Simmons can’t see it under her helmet. “I said I didn’t want one.”

“I know, I know!” Simmons voice is a squeak. “I told them, I really did! But Church labeled them all and that one demanded to go with you. I tried to talk him out of it but-”

“But?” It’s a snarl.

Simmons drops his hands. His shoulders slump. His A.I flickers to life once more, sitting on his left shoulder. It’s hand is resting on his armor, as if providing comfort. 

“He said he had to take care of you.”

It feels like a slap. Or maybe a punch, Carolina can’t tell. Because even as he was falling to pieces, even as he was starting to become these things, Epsilon was still thinking of her. 

She turns back towards the box and picks it up. “What is it? What part of him?”

This time, it’s Simmons’ A.I who answers. “Hope. Rho’s hope.”

It takes everything Carolina has not to throw the box across the room.

Later, when she places it in the back of her closet and locks it tight, the symbolism isn’t lost on her.


	6. Chapter 6

For an A.I that’s supposed to belong to Grif, Phi was rather nice to him.

It sort of confused Simmons, to an extent. The A.I had been polite when Simmons first helped sort them all out into their data chips, but he hadn’t been quite this nice. When Simmons first met the little orange fragment, it’d done little besides wave at him and thank him for his new data chip.

The contrast between the A.I then and now was astounding.

“Simmons!” Phi flickered to life on Grif’s shoulder when his teammate entered the engineering room. Unlike most of the A.I, he rendered without armor, appearing as a young man with thick glasses and the beginnings of a beard. While Grif booked it straight to the worktable to check out his Grifshot, the man’s A.I floated over towards Simmons instead, resting on the edge of the table where Simmons was currently doing inventory. Chi, who was currently helping him double check his numbers waved to the other A.I.

“Oh, hey,” Simmons said. He wasn’t wearing his armor, it made doing inventory harder, and he was a little surprised the A.I knew who he was without any trace of his trademark colors besides Chi. “Good to see you. Settling in okay?”

“Yep! Grif showed me around the base. It was fun.” He walked over to Simmons’ tablet and glanced over the screen. “Wow, you’re good with numbers.”

Simmons wished he was wearing his armor when a blush crept up his cheeks. He still wasn’t good with praise. It was one of the things Chi was trying to get him to work on. “Um, thanks.” He glanced over to Chi who was going over his numbers still, though Simmons could tell he was a bit distracted. “You here to talk to Chi?”

Phi jumped a little, looking over to Chi, like he just noticed he was there. “Um, no actually. Not that I don’t like you, Chi.”

“Oh, I know,” Chi said, in a tone that reminded Simmons far too much of Church. So much that it almost hurt a little. “But tone it down a little, will you? You’re being obvious.”

“Obvious?” Simmons looked over to the A.I. “Obvious about what?” 

There were few things in the world that could surprise Simmons anymore, but watching the A.I duck away from his gaze, flustered, was one of them.

“Oh no you don’t!” Before Simmons could even realize what was happening, Grif was standing right across from him, his arms crossed. Phi practically squeaked. ‘Dude, I thought you said you had this!”

“I-” Phi took one last look at Simmons before vanishing. Simmons glared up at Grif.

“Are you abusing your A.I. because I swear to God-”

Grif flicked him off, stalking out of the room. Simmons watched as the doors slammed behind them, leaving only him and Chi back in the room. It was only then that Simmons realized that Grif hadn’t even bothered to try to carry out his grifshot.

“Looks like you’re not the only one around here who needs confidence,” Chi muttered before going back to inventory.


	7. Chapter 7

  
Tau wakes him up before he starts screaming.

Wash’s wakes up gasping, clawing at his chest like he’s drowning on dry land. It’s painful to breathe, painful to even think about breathing, and the scream in his throat claws at his flesh, trying to figure out whether to retreat or to fly free. For a second, Wash thinks he’s going to pass out, he’s not getting enough air, he’s never going to get enough air again, because Alison is gone, and Alison is dead, and he’s being torn apart-

“Wash!” Tau is floating in his sight of vision, armor off. He looks like the man Wash sometimes mistakes himself more on bad mornings. “David!”

Wash sucks in a gasp of air. It’s beautiful. 

“Oh thank God,” Tau says. “Just breathe in, okay?  In, out.”

Wash knows how to breathe. He’s not an idiot. But when he tries to Tau that, he almost starts choking on his own voice again. So he listens to Tau’s instructions. Does what he’s told. Follows orders.

It’s probably not healthy, he thinks. This way of coping. But it’s all he has.

“Okay, your vitals look better,” Tau says. “Let’s see. Um, your name is David but everyone calls you Washington. I’m Tau, your A.I, but don’t worry, I’m not in your implants. You’re currently on the planet Chorus and it’s three in the morning. You took down project Freelancer. You saved the planet. Everyone is okay.” He frowns and looks down at Wash’s wide eyes. “Am I missing anything?”

Wash stares at him. When had he learned to deal with panic attacks? Wash certainty didn’t teach him. “No, I think that’s good.” He sits up and takes another deep breath. His lungs still feel raw, but the air helps. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“I looked it up. I thought it might be important,” Tau says it like it isn’t a big deal. Which Wash supposes it isn’t in the grand scheme of things. But it’s big to him.  

“Thank you. For looking it up.” Before Tau can respond he looks around his room. “How’s everyone?”

Tau flickers a bit. Spreading himself across the station can wear him a little thin. “Good for the most part. Caboose is up working on some stuff Jensen gave him but Pi will keep an eye on him.” Tau pauses. “Tucker’s awake too. In the training room again.”

Wash closes his eyes. It looks like Tau isn’t going to be the only one dealing with PTSD tonight. He gets up and throws on a shirt.

“Want me to come with?” Tau says. Wash considers it for a second. Reaches for the chain where he keeps Tau’s chip. 

“Yeah. Why not?”

The two leave the room in darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

Ksi doesn’t ask him about Doc until a month after he’s given over to Donut.

Donut’s sitting outside in the garden at the time, Ksi’s chip in a bracelet on his left hand. It’s not really a garden, not yet, they just started to work the soil, but Donut wants to think calling it a garden will speed up the process. Doc’s out there at the moment. Donut watches as he places seeds into the dirt with gloved hands and smiles. 

“Why do you like him so much?”

Donut looks over to Ksi. Ksi has formed himself to float over Donut’s hand. His arms are crossed, and from his tone, Donut can tell he’s honestly curious not critical. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ksi tilts his head like he’s looking at a puzzle instead of a man.

“He makes a lot of mistakes. And he’s a little unstable.” Doc is arguing with himself now, the voice of Omega creeping into his tone. Donut shrugs.

“We all make mistakes. And we’re all a little unstable.” Kai floats a little forward. Doc has stopped arguing with himself now, instead humming a soft song under his voice as he digs another hole. It’s one of Donut’s favorites and he closes his eyes to take it in. 

“That doesn’t explain why you like him,” Ksi whispers. Donut leans back onto the grass and relishes the feeling of it in his hair. It reminds him of home. Not Iowa. No, the home back on another world, where he kept a garden, planted some flowers and fell in love with a man who burnt dinner every night and never could remember to lock the front door.

“You’re the creative one,” Donut says, falling deep into the memory. “You figure it out.”

Ksi is silent. Doc begins to sing the lyrics instead of humming them and Donut tries to picture them back in their bed, happy and content. Before this war.

Ksi begins to sing along as Donut falls asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Sometimes, Grif really hated his A.I.

“You’re really bad at this love thing.”

Grif groaned, placing his arm over his eyes. Like blocking his sight of vision would make Phi stop talking. They we’re alone in their room, thank God for that, the rest of the gang dealing with things like “responsibility” and “duty.” Grif had been planning to spend the time getting some not-well-deserved r&r but then Simmons had called.

Phi always got snappy when it came to Simmons.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Grif said, flopping on his cot. He found himself staring up at Simmons bunk. Phi soon blocked his view and Grif tried to shoo him out of the way. His hand went straight through the A.I and for the third time that week, Grif considered going to the effort of researching how to punch artificial intelligence. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grif felt a pang in his heart Right; not Church. Church was dead. He rolled over to face the wall instead, curling his arms over his stomach. 

“Look. Do you want me to write him a fucking sonnet or something?”

“If it gets you talking, yeah, sure,” Psi said and Grif made a mental note that Psi was just as much as a smart ass as he was. Grif poked his hand through the A.I’s torso. 

“We are not talking about this,” he growled.

Psi threw up his hands. “Why the hell not! You love him! It’s not that complicated!”

“Of course it’s complicated! It’s love!” Grif realized he was yelling and lowered his voice. Last thing he wanted was to be overheard. “Look, can’t you just let it be? Repression was working fine before you came along.”

“It’s making you miserable.” Psi sounded a lot like Kai in that moment, Grif thought. Like when Kai was a kid and Grif was worn to the bone and let it slip onto his face for more than a second. Grif pulled himself out of the memory.

“Why do you care?” 

Psi floated closer to his face so he was looking him in the eyes. He reached up to push up his glasses. it reminded Grif of Simmons. When he spoke, he was deathly serious.

“Because I care about you. And I want you to be happy,” he looked away for a second. “I think he did too.”

Grif didn’t have to ask who he was. He didn’t want to.

Not knowing for sure made it hurt less.


	10. Chapter 10

When Epsilon sent him his mission, Pi was ready for everything.

He knew how to take care of Caboose. It was written into his code, detailed down to the letter, and even though Pi couldn’t remember ever meeting the man, he could remember that he needed to take his medication every morning and stay away from large flashing lights. Patience was Pi’s speciality, his true calling. Whatever Michael J. Caboose threw at him, he could handle. 

Whatever Freckles threw at him, however, was a different story. 

“Captain Caboose already has an A.I. Your services are not needed. Depart.”

Pi looked at the gun. They’d been going at this for almost ten minutes now, Freckles listing of the same demand as Pi tried to explain that he wasn’t going to move an inch in as many ways as possible. When the argument had started, Caboose had decided to put both Freckles and the bracelet Pi rested on, in the corner to “talk it out.”

Pi was pretty sure you couldn’t talk to a jealous Mantis about friendship, but for Caboose, he would try.

“I’m not replacing you, Freckles,” Pi said. “There’s just going to be two of us now.”

“You are taking over primary functions of care for Captain Caboose. That is replacing. Your services are not needed. Depart.”

If Pi was corporeal, he’d walk over to the nearest wall to bang his head into it, because even a being made of patience couldn’t stand more of this. 

“Hi Freckles. Hi Pi!” Caboose opened the door to his room and walked over to the corner. “Have you made up?”

“Captain Caboose already has an A.I. Your services are not needed. Depart.”

Pi just pointed at Freckles in response.

Caboose clucked his tongue and picked up the gun. “Freckles, you don’t need to be jealous. Pi isn’t my A.I; he’s my friend. Like Agent Washingtub or Tucker!”

“I thought you hated Tucker,” Pi started but Caboose quickly shushed him.

“You see, Freckles. friends. We’re friends. Like me and Church.” Caboose’s smile faded at that, his eyes dimming. He reached up to swipe at them. “We were best friends.”

Oh no. He’d gotten started again. Pi wanted to go up and comfort the man, it was his job, but he wasn’t going to as long as a hostile Mantis could still shoot his chip. After a long pause, Freckles spoke up.

“Pi. Your services are perhaps needed. I resign my earlier statements. Please assist.” 

Pi couldn’t help but feel relieved as he moved up to Caboose faceplate to tell him a story that would bring back a smile. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

If Grif knew how chatty Phi was around Sarge, he’d never let them in the same room.

“He’s so dense!” Phi was walking across the countertop where Grif had left his bracelet. The man was currently up at the mess hall counter getting seconds, and since Phi liked to comment on nutritional values, he was often left behind on these values. Sarge, who was sipping at his morning coffee, just smiled as the A.I began to pace again.

“I don’t understand! It’s like he doesn’t understand basic logic.” Phi kicked at Grif’s food tray. “It’s too hard, Phi! It’s too complicated, Phi! I can’t say that, he’ll make fun of me, Phi!” He kicked the tray again, his foot going through once more. “It’s like he’s allergic to genuine emotion.”

“So that’s what this is about,” Sarge said, taking another sip of his coffee. He looked down at Zeta who was sitting on the table. He seemed to be planning out Sarge’s training routine, making edits in areas that were too dangerous. “You mind tellin’ your brother he’s climbing up a useless tree?”

“Phi doesn’t see any emotion as useless.” Zeta didn’t look away from his charts, dragging one of Sarge’s plans to run through fire into the trash. “You should just let them figure it out, Phi. Chi thinks the same.”

Phi grumbled under his breath. “Yeah, like that’s worked well so far.” He walked over past Zeta. “What do you think, Sarge?”

“I think Grif is doomed to fuck it up either way.” He placed his coffee cup down so his entire face was showing. “Why you even askin’ me? Grif doesn’t give a shit about my opinion.”

“Grif cares about your opinion. You’re family.”

It was clear Phi didn’t understand the weight of that statement when Sarge dropped his coffee mug entirely. It hit the table and shattered, shards scattering across the table top. Phi took a step back.

“You didn’t know that, did you?”

Zeta closed his plans and dragged his hand across his face. 

“With your filter, we should have paired you up with Donut.”


	12. Chapter 12

In some ways, Kappa is a lot like Church.

He’s got that lovable bastard thing going on, making fun of Tucker in ways that can always make him smile. He’s a shit shot just like his predecessor. He can’t dance for the life of him the one time he tried, making gestures that looked painful. He cares about Tucker. In many ways, Kappa is the parts of Church Tucker liked best. The parts that were his friend.

But Kappa isn’t Church. Kappa doesn’t remember years of watching the Reds through a sniper rifle. Kappa doesn’t remember Junior outside of official reports. Kappa doesn’t remember him. 

Tucker hates him for that, just a little. And for that, for hating something Church made to save him, Tucker hates himself.

Self-hatred is sort of his thing lately. Tucker wonders if it’s because Church is gone; someone had to take over the position of self-loathing team member in his absence.

“Hey Tucker,” Kappa floats in front of him as Tucker lays on his cot. It’s two in the afternoon and Tucker still hasn’t managed to make it out of bed. The idea of moving hurts too much. “How you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Tucker says, curling up in his blankets some more. He told Kappa to leave him alone. “What do you want?”

Kappa shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It makes him seem a lot younger. Unsure. Like Junior. 

“Doctor Grey pinged me. She wants to see you.”

Tucker groans. Great, Ms. Cheerful. Last thing he needs is her poking and prodding him. “Tell her I’m not coming.”

“She says she’ll come to you if you don’t show up.”

Tucker resists the urge to bury himself under his blankets. He’ll have to go then. Even though the idea of getting out of bed seems impossible. 

“I can come with. If it’ll help.”

Tucker looks up to Kappa. So concerned. It sort of helps the numbness a little, knowing that he gives a fuck. That anyone gives a fuck.

A small part of Tucker’s brain says that there’s plenty of more people who give a fuck. Blue team. Red team. Carolina. Kimball. Junior. Wash. 

A larger part that feels almost foreign says that the one thing they all have in common is Tucker letting them down.

“Yeah,” Tucker says. “Why not.” Kappa relaxes a little at that. Like he’s afraid Tucker would say no. 

Behind Tucker’s head, a small flame grows larger.


	13. Chapter 13

Tau is the one who tells him.

It’s five in the afternoon when his A.I flares to life on his wrist, right in the middle of drills. Wash doesn’t take the message at first, he’s busy ordering recruits through another round of laps, but once they get far away enough from him, he allows Tau to speak.

“Doctor Grey called. She wants to speak to you.”

That’s all he says. No information about who, what or how. Wash is sure if he asked, Tau would tell him; Tau tells him most things. He assumes Tau just skipped it because Wash already knows.

When you find your comrade, your friend, running laps at 2 in the morning over a period of two weeks, it’s not hard to piece out who ended up in medical.

He runs, because he’s too late to everything, he’s always been too late, too late for his friends, too late for his men, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to be too late again. When he arrives, Grey is waiting for him, sitting down, helmet off. Her smile is pained. 

“I called Tucker in today for an appointment.”

Wash thinks he might not have shown, but then he notices Kappa floating outside a doorway, arms crossed. Guard duty. The A.I’s head is bowed, and while he stance is in parade rest, but his helmet sparks on and off a little, revealing a worried expression. The fragments are worse at controlling their depictions when stressed.

“He’s lost a lot of weight,” Grey continues. “Says he hasn’t been sleeping but he’s tired all the time. I normally don’t share patients’ history with those outside of family, but he gave me permission, and honestly, I think I could use your consult.” Wash is very aware of how much Grey cares for her patients in that moment, to admit to weakness. “Agent Washington, do A.I have a history of causing depression?”

Wash’s stomach drops. He thinks back to himself years ago, sitting on a table as a doctor asked a similar question. Gave him a similar diagnosis. One he rejected, but in retrospect, might have been the right one. 

_Not Tucker, too._

Wash clears his throat. “When put in neural implants, yes, but we made sure that wouldn’t happen by putting all the A.I in bracelets.” He holds up his own, where Tau’s symbol is painted on the side. Grey sighs.

“I was afraid of that.” Wash doesn’t have to ask her why before she speaks again. “If this was an A.I issue, it might be easily fixed. But if it’s all natural, well-” She sighs. “Tucker has a battle in front of him.”

Wash knows why she’s so upset. They just won a war. Last thing Tucker needs is to fight a new one in his own brain. 

She let’s him talk to him, after talking about options. Medication and therapy (trial and error) seems the best bet, and Wash starts to figure out how he can hide this from Tucker’s men if Tucker wants to keep it private business (if he doesn’t, Wash will stand by him for it, let any asshole who tries to mock an illness feel his fist crush their nose). Tucker is in a cot when he walks in, looking exhausted. Over him, Kappa is reading letters from Junior.

The sudden rush of fondness Wash feels for the A.I shocks even him.

“So you got the news, huh?” Tucker sounds like he hasn’t slept in days. “Way to go, huh? Losing it right when we get a good moment.”

It’s hard to see Tucker like this. Like he used to be. But Tucker needs him. And for that, Wash will suffer through.

Wash walks over to Tucker’s bed and sits down right next to the man. He gently sneaks his arm over his shoulder and pulls him in for a hug. 

“It’s not your fault. You’re sick.” Tucker rests his head on Wash’s shoulder. “You want me to tell the others?” He doesn’t have to explain who the others are. Both of them know deep in their bones. 

“You can tell them if they ask. Except Caboose. Tell him I got the flu or something. He doesn’t need this.”

Wash files it down for later. They sit in silence for a bit before Wash looks up at Kappa. “Keep reading. I want to know what my nephew is up to.”

Tucker snorts at that. “You haven’t even met him, you ass.”

“More reason to keep informed.”

Kappa does as he’s told, reading slow enough so they can keep up. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolina learns about Rho's misadventures.

When Carolina opens the box to find Rho missing, she panics.

It’s almost ridiculous, how much she panics for something she never wanted. She tears up her room looking for the A.I, opens all her drawers, let’s her personal items fall to the floor as she scrambles through her belongings. Her search wields no results, Rho’s bracelet is gone, and as that reality sinks in, Carolina finds all the frantic energy in her bones leave at once. 

Rho is gone. The last thing she had connecting her to Epsilon is gone. He’d split himself up for her, given her a shard of his own soul, and she’d lost it. Lost the last thing her brother trusted her with. 

Hope. And looking at the empty box, Carolina finds herself needing it more than ever. 

That’s when she notices the note. It’s folded up and Carolina snatches it, smearing her name which is written on the top. She scans the contents faster than she’s read anything in her life.

“Blue,

Took Rho out for a playdate. I promise not to give him too much candy. 

-Sarge

Carolina stares. The next thing she knows, she’s heading for Sarge’s room. 

He’s in there alright, sitting at a table fiddling with one of his inventions, whistling. She can see Rho’s bracelet on the table and for one moment, she wonders if she could snatch it and hit the colonel at once. But they she notices the situation itself. Zeta is on the table, clapping his hands in beat with Sarge’s whistling. Right next to him is Rho, dancing along in a shuffle step that reminds Carolina far too much of her father. The Blue A.I seems to be enjoying itself until he looks up. Notices Carolina.

“Agent Carolina,” he squeaks. Sarge and Zeta looks towards her as well, the whistling cutting off. In a flicker of light, Zeta appears on Sarge’s solider.

“Warming up the healing unit,” Zeta stage whispers and Carolina feels her stomach sink at that because a second ago, Sarge might have actually needed it.

“You won’t need it,” she says, holding up one hand. Steeling herself, she walks over to the table and sits down on one of the benches. Rho’s image flickers under her gaze. He must be nervous.

“Agent Carolina I didn’t-”

Carolina shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. You needed some time out.” She looks up at Sarge who regards her with a curious expression. “Mind starting up that tune again, Colonel? I think Rho wanted to dance.”

Sarge’s eyes soften. He begins to whistle again. Rho doesn’t move, still looking up at Carolina. Still scared of her. This child of her brother. 

Carolina pulls off her helmet. Smiles. It hurts to do, hurts to remember how Rho ended up to exist, but she does it anyway. For Epsilon. 

“Well? You gonna show me your moves?”

It is only then that Rho begins to dance.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caboose makes a cake. Sorta.

Wash takes one look at the kitchen and decides that he’s going to kill Donut. For real this time.

When they’d first gotten their A.I’s, Simmons had made it clear that while some of them could borrow each others when they wanted, some combos were just asking for disaster. Giving Sarge Pi would be asking for a fight to break out. Loaning Tau to Donut would create the ultimate mother hen team. And giving Ksi to Caboose? Creativity?

Wash supposes that turning the kitchen into a biohazard zone is the result. 

“Hello agent Washingtub!” Caboose says. He’s in armor still, why he didn’t take it off while baking in a mystery, and Wash watches as he flicks off some cake batter that’s covering his visor. “I decided to cook!” 

“I can see that,” Wash says. He turns his gaze to the two A.I’s on the kitchen table. Ksi is looking down at his feet while Pi looks to be giving on hell of a lecture. Wash is almost proud of the A.I; someone needs to help him with discipline around here. 

“You okay, Caboose?” Tau asks from Wash’s shoulder. Wash didn’t summon him, but given Tau’s natural capacity for concern, it’s not surprising that he decided to show. Caboose nods. 

“Yes! The fire only licked me! But I think the cake is sick.” Wash looks at the ashes that he assumes is the cake and can’t help agree. “I was gonna give it to help Tucker feel better, but I don’t want to make him sicker.”

The A.I’s on the table stop talking. Tau sinks at least an inch. Wash looks at Caboose and sighs.

“How about we go visit him buddy? That’s better than any cake.”

They leave the wreck of the kitchen for Red Team to deal with. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how it starts

It happens all at once.

Pi doesn’t see it coming until it’s too late. They’re all out as a unit except for Tucker who’s back at base, and for a blissful thirty minutes, Pi thinks this escapade will commence without incident. It’s a sight seeing venture really, just to check that there are no linger combatants, and Pi is taking the opportunity to enjoy the scenery more than anything. 

Caboose is too. And despite all the frustration he causes the little A.I, Pi can’t help but be absurdly fond as Caboose bends down to get a look at one of the flowers growing on the side of the road. 

“I didn’t know flowers came in black!” Caboose points to the petals of what looks somewhat like a daisy. 

“Me neither,” Pi says, floating over his shoulder. He doesn’t have these flowers on record, and while it’s not his job to collect information on Chorus, he stores away the tidbit anyway. 

“I don’t know if I like it,” Caboose says, poking one of the petals. “It’s not very pretty.” He tilts his head and pokes at it again. “Tex would like it though. She likes black.”

Pi doesn’t know if that statement is accurate; all his information about Agent Texas comes secondhand from folders and files they all took off Charon. From what he knows, Texas doesn’t seem like the type to like flowers. Then again, A.I’s in general weren’t expected to like flowers either, and here Pi was, lallygagging to literally smell the roses. 

That is the last thought he has before he hears the click of a gun.

The world slows to his time. Caboose hasn’t noticed yet and Pi scans the situation as fast as he can. Vitals showcase three combatants. From his scans, one will easily be dealt with by Captain Grif. But the other two…

He runs the calculations again. Then once more. Then checks to make sure Caboose doesn’t have a bubble shield. He runs it one more time, almost in a panic.

Here is what the statistics tell him; a bullet will hit Caboose’s head. There is no way Caboose can avoid it; his reflexes are too slow to maneuver it, and it will go in right between his eyes even if he manages to try to dodge. And given how long it takes Caboose to process information (he’s reaction rate is improving but still far from ideal), Pi’s warning will not give him enough time to even dodge. From there, the bullet will pierce Caboose’s helmet, and bury itself in his brain. Survival rate looks to be less than 1%.

Pi panics. He tries to contact the other AI but they are too far away to jump over to help. They can’t help. Caboose is going to die because Pi was distracted. His reflexes aren’t as good as Pi’s. 

That’s what gives him the idea. It goes against every protocol he has, every warning he’s been issued, but there’s no other way. He can reach Caboose’s neural implants from his spot in the bracelet. The time he would need to take control wouldn’t need to be more than a full minute. Unlike Alpha, Beta and Omega, he knows how to not leave any damage.

It’s against his very code. Epsilon had written in so many warnings about this, about what it could cause, and that’s almost enough to give Pi pause. But then he thinks of Caboose’s joy over black flowers. And he can’t.

He jumps to Caboose’s neural implants. The second before he enters, a flicker of flame, a memory, flickers in front of him and snarls.

“You do this, you prove me right.”

Pi doesn’t know what it means. He doesn’t care. He makes the jump. 

Pi takes control of Caboose’s limbs. Dives forward to tackle his attacker. Leaves five seconds later as soon as the threat is neutralized. 

Meanwhile, back at base, Tucker’s eyes fly open. Behind them, something burns. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarge finds Simmons out of commission.

The day after Pi takes over Caboose to save his life, Sarge walks into the garage to find Simmons on the floor. Face down. 

Sarge does not panic. He’s not capable of it. His yell of Simmons name is only to make the situation known. Zeta flickering to life on his shoulder and calling Doctor Grey is being cautious, not over reacting. The sight of Chi screaming at Simmons to wake up does not turn his blood to ice.

Sarge kneels down next to his solider. Pulls off one gauntlet. Places his hand over Simmons’ mouth to feel for breath. 

Warm air escapes Simmons mouth and Sarge feels like he can breathe again.

“What happened Chi?” He says, taking a look at the A.I who is now pacing above Simmons head. Zeta is busy on the com with Doctor Grey, describing vitals and all sorts of other information.

“I don’t know!” Chi says and the admission from the A.I who is supposed to be confidence does not bode well. “We were just sitting here and suddenly everything went dark! When I came back online, Simmons was on the floor!”

Sarge puts the pieces together. Simmons and Chi both down at once? There’s overlap there. Overlap he can work with. He reaches over for Simmons helmet which is sitting on the work bench and presses the com. When it doesn’t flicker to life, the pieces come together.

“Looks like you folks got his by an electronic disturbance,” Sarge says. “It would have shut you down, and done a bit of messing to Simmons gears. Not too much, I’d hope.”

“His vitals look fine,” Zeta says, picking up on Sarge’s concerns. “I am worried about these events, however. An electronic disturbance should not be happening in these parts.”

Sarge knows what Zeta’s not saying. The A.I may not be programed to jump to conclusions, but Sarge can do enough for the both of them. Attacked. Simmons was attacked. 

“Dick!” Two voices shout from the doorway, and all conscious members of Red team turn to look at Grif and Phi who are in the doorway. Sarge turns his gaze to Chi.

“Really?”

Chi shrugs. “I’m trying to get Simmons to work on his confidence. Phi is trying to get Grif to work on his emotions. There’s no time like the present.”

Zeta and Sarge groan in unison as Simmons begins to wake up.


	18. Chapter 18

Simmons was going to be okay.

That was a relief, Zeta thought as he hovered near the man’s bedside. While Simmons had suffered no long term consequences due to his shortage, Grey wanted to keep him in the hospital until she learned what the cause of the shortage once. Red team was packed into the small space, Sarge passed out on one of the chairs, Grif sitting in another with his head resting on the edge of Simmons bed. Donut and Lopez were out for investigation, and until they came back, the remaining Red team A.I floated above Simmons bedside. 

“Grif was freaking out,” Phi said, stepping over towards Chi. Like their human partners, they were close, except in the manner of brothers. In a sense, they were almost like twins. Chi grabbed his shoulder. “When Zeta called, he booked it before I could even explain what was going on.”

“I didn’t mean to alarm him,” Zeta said. “I just thought he should be informed. If something had happened-”

“Nothing was gonna happen,” Chi spoke up. His voice had a bit of a wobble to it, and this time Phi was the one to rest his hand on the other’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to him. Ever.”

“I don’t doubt that, Chi,” Zeta said, raising his hands. “I’m just stating facts. If something had gone wrong-”

“Nothing could have gone wrong!” Chi was shaking now, parts of his image shifting and glitching in place. Sparks came from his torso. “I wouldn’t let it happen. Simmons is my responsibility! I’m supposed to take care of him; I’d die before-”

The confidence was gone. Zeta could see it, given how Chi was flickering. Zeta took a step forward and wrapped the A.I in a hug. While they were all the same age, Chi’s bravado had always made him feel younger to Zeta. 

“I know, Chi. I know. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Chi clung to Zeta, and while neither of them could really feel it, the static that passed between the two was as close to human contact as they could get. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Phi said. “We’ll make sure of it. And so will they.” He gestured to Sarge and Grif. “Trust me. I know how they work.”

For once, Zeta decided he was right on that. He reached out his arm to pull Phi into the hug as well. 

“We’re going to be okay,” Zeta said. “We’re Red team. Always are.”

If Sarge’s accent slipped into his voice on the last sentence, none of them mentioned it.


	19. Chapter 19

Here is what Tucker remembers; doing a quick work out, feeling like shit, and deciding to take another nap. 

Here is what Tucker does not remember: ending up in the workout room.

He comes back to himself slowly, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. The first thing that comes back is sound, the rhythmic pattern of fists clashing against something he cannot name. Words come next, his own name, the name of his son, the names of every person he has ever let down. Following that is sight, the mental fog behind his eyes clearing to make way for the world in front of him.

A punching bag. Torn down the middle. His fists. Bloody. Reaching forward to make another punch at soft stuffing-

Tucker stops before his fist connects. Retracts it. And finds himself utterly at a loss.

“Holy fuck,” he says, looking down at the mess that is his knuckles. It is clear they came from his workout, and Tucker cannot fathom why he didn’t think to wrap them before expressing what was likely some well deserved rage. He walks over to the first aid kit and wraps his hands, wincing as the gauze connects against the broken skin. After that he sits down on one of the benches and thinks on why he cannot remember being here.

He comes up empty.

It’s not an A.I thing. He knows that. Kappa isn’t integrated with his brain and even if he was, the chip that contains him is still hanging out in the medical ward. Which means it’s something else.

Likely the same thing that landed him in the medical ward in the first place.

“Blackouts? Seriously?” Tucker runs his hand down his face, closing his eyes. “Great, just great. Another thing to add to the chart.” He gets off the bench and walks over so he can look in one of the mirrors. The circles under his eyes look even worse. “Insomnia, depression, anxiety, self loathing and now blackouts. Next thing you know I’m gonna be a walking Prozac commercial.” He ups his pitch and tone. “The following side effects and symptoms of your brain being a dick include but are not limited to-”

He sighs. Fantastic. Fucking fantastic. If things keep going this way, he’s gonna start looking like Wash when they first met. Or get grey hair.

He turns away from the mirror and begins to head back to the medical ward when he stops. Something shifts in his demeanor, his shoulder getting straighter, his eyes growing hard. He turns back towards the mirror, this time with purpose and when he looks at his own reflection, the A.I on his shoulder is as clear as day.

It doesn’t matter. Tucker isn’t there anymore.

“Sorry about this buddy,” the A.I says, flickering in and out of sight. “I know I’ve been making you feel like crap. That wasn’t the plan.” The A.I floats so he’s standing in front of Tucker, a small version of Church but alight with flame. “When I finish this up, I promise, you’ll never have to see me again. I’ll be out of screwing your lives forever. No one will get hurt because of me.”

The light vanishes. The man who is currently not Tucker smiles in the mirror, the same smile Leonard Church once sported a long time ago.

Upsilon looks at his friend who he’s using like a puppet one last time before heading to retrieve the Meta suit. Plan A didn’t work.

It’s time for plan B.


	20. Chapter 20

Tucker is missing.

Doctor Grey is the one who tells Carolina, rushing to inform the woman as soon as she’s done talking to Simmons about what had happened. Her hair is pulled back in a bun messier than any she has ever sported, and as she talked, Carolina can’t help but notice how she twitches with every other word.

She’s worried. The unflappable Doctor Grey is worried. Because Tucker, Tucker who has been sick for the last month, Tucker who has been having nightmares, Tucker who reminded her of the brother she never had with his smile sometimes, was missing.

And they couldn’t find him.

The look for hours, checking the entire base for Tucker, where he could have gone. Their entire family, on the lookout for a man who has never been hard to find before. Five hours in, when Tucker is nowhere to be found, the deploys they sent outside of base come back to let them know there’s no sign of him in the surrounding city either. There’s no sign of him anywhere.

Wash looks like he’s about to scream during the entire search, almost vibrating with energy. She can only imagine what is going on in his head. It takes everything she has to not fall into the pit of “what-if” herself. 

_ What if? What if? What if?  _

She ends up in the video surveillance room, because that’s the only place she can think of for answers. Rho comes with her, the A.I bracelet on her wrist for once, and as she goes through the footage, the young A.I chimes in with words of occasional encouragement.  _ Maybe Tucker went for a run? Maybe he decided to go exploring? Maybe he took a nap somewhere weird?  _

It’s hope in its purest form, hoping for the best when the worst seems almost definitive. Carolina wonders, for a fleeting moment, if this was the reason Epsilon chose this A.I for her in the first place, to keep her from thinking the worst of the world while she still remained in it. 

It doesn’t matter in the end. Hope means nothing when she finds a video of Tucker in the training room for three hours on end. And it does nothing when she notices the flicker of flame over his shoulder, so very real, a nightmare born again. 

“Sigma,” she whispers and her brain recoils, memories from the past coming to the surface. Maine laughing in the mess hall. Maine lifting up Niner when she broke her leg and carrying her to her room. Maine joining everyone into tricking Wash that there’s a sauna.

Maine looking down at her as he threw her off a cliff. 

Tucker in his place, face blank, red flame consuming him alive. 

When Carolina screams. Rho does not say a word. 


	21. Chapter 21

As soon as Carolina tells him, Washington heads for his room. 

Tau doesn’t say a word the entire walk through the base, doesn’t utter a single comment as Wash pries open his door before slamming it shut behind him. When Wash begins to scream into his pillow, Tau remains silent, hovering over him at a distance, giving him space. Even when Wash yells loud enough to be heard in the other rooms, the A.I just watches. 

Tucker is in the wind. Tucker has been taken over by another A.I. Tucker is becoming something long thought dead.

This is a moment no words can fix. 

Once Wash calms down enough just to breath heavy into his pillow, Tau moves closer, not enough to be in the Freelancer’s personal space, but enough to make his presence known. The glare Wash gives him when he looks up is not lost on the A.I, but it doesn’t comment, moving a fraction closer. When Wash does not speak for another full minute, the A.I finally asks its question. 

“The E.M.P. Carolina is going to use it, right?” 

Wash’s glare narrows at the A.I. “You don’t want her to.”

“No,” The A.I says, and the surprise that appears on Wash’s face is genuine. “I want to save Tucker. I really don’t care how. And neither would Kappa.” 

The mention of the other A.I with Tucker makes Wash’s stomach roll. For a piece of data, Kappa seems to care about Tucker. And Tucker seems to care about it. Destroying Kappa will not help Tucker in the long run, even if it is to save him in the process.

“You say that like he’s gone.”

“I remember a little bit from Epsilon,” Tau says, like he’s not dropping huge information. ‘Bits and pieces. About Freelancer. About what he did to you.” Tau looks away on that line. “And about Sigma, sometimes. And if that’s Sigma-” Tau shrugs. It reminds Wash a lot of Alpha, back when he had a robotic body and no sense of his true origins. Like both of them are trying to shrug off a weight they can’t see. “Well Kappa is already gone.”

Wash closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. He thinks of Maine when they worked together,  _ after _ , how the man had hollow eyes that looked right through him. 

“You think Tucker is gone too?” 

Wash opens his eyes to find Tau hovering in front of him. After a pause, the A.I shakes his head.

“No. I think he’ll be okay. I have faith.”

“Why?”

Tau grows very still. 

“Because if Kappa is gone someone has to.” 

Neither Man and A.I point out how far faith has gotten them in the past.  


	22. Chapter 22

After hearing about Tucker, Grif finds Simmons in the main tech lab.

 

He’s in a wheelchair, mostly because his leg is out of order with the electronic disturbance that went through his body. Grif wonders how he got it; he wasn’t suppose to leave the infirmity until Grey gave him the all clear. Chi sits on his shoulder, and Grif watches as they scroll through line after line of data.

 

“It’s gotta be here somewhere,” Simmons says under his breath. 

 

“Maybe in another folder?” Chi sounds rather serious.    
  


“Checked them. Could only find base codes for most of you guys, nothing else. Checked the logs to for one we missed: still nothing.”

 

“It could be in the sub-”

 

Grif doesn’t pay attention after that, the techno babble too dry. Hacking has never been his strong suit. He always preferred stuff like physics or mathematics as his academic challenges of choice. Hacking was never his kind of puzzle. But it’s interesting to watch Simmons try it for some reason, to watch as he scrolls through the data files and scowls. 

 

A lot of things are interesting only when Simmons does them. Which is probably why Phi won’t ever get off his back on the subject. 

 

“What you looking for?” Grif asks after a moment has passed, walking forward. Simmons is glaring at the computer screen now, mouth in a deep frown.

 

“Data files. From the Meta suit. I want to see how I missed Sigma in the code.”

 

Grif looks at Simmons. “Sigma? Isn’t the dude like living ambition or something? Not your fault if the bitch was clever enough to slide in there.”

 

Simmons doesn’t respond which tells Grif exactly what Simmons thinks he is and isn’t responsible for. 

 

“It has to be here somewhere. He had to leave some sort of trace. At least a designation.” He looks up, noticing Grif’s confused expression, and elaborates. “Every A.I had a designation. A person and a personality trait. Epsilon made a list. It was how I knew who to give who to who.”

 

Grif lets that information sink in for a second. Simmons knew who each A.I belonged to and the corresponding personality trait. That meant-

 

Phi flickers to life on his shoulder and Grif realizes with a dawning horror that Simmons has known his personality trait this entire time  and hasn’t said a single word.

 

“Wait you knew all the personality traits? Even-”

 

Simmons looks up at him again, clearly annoyed by being torn away from his work.    
Of course I did, Grif! They were on the list! And Agent Carolina wanted me to check none of them were sinister in nature and-” Simmons cuts off, noticing the expression on Grif’s face. “That’s not what you were getting at, was it?” 

 

That’s it. Grif throws his hands up in the air. “You’re telling me you knew you gave me an A.I designated for the trait “love” this entire time and didn’t say one word! Oh my God, Simmons. Do you know how badly I’ve been trying to keep this secret? That Church decided to give me a fucking emotion to force me to be introspective because he thinks I’m “repressed.” I could have spent this entire time bitching to you about having to talk about my stupid feelings to a fragment of an A.I who could have wrote a book on repression, when instead I suffered in silence!”

 

There is a long pause. Grif glances at Phi. He looks thrilled. LIke “teenage girl” thrilled, with his hands over his mouth hiding a delighted grin. It’s terrifying. No version of Church should look that happy. Grif looks back at Simmons. Who is gaping at him. 

 

Grif is missing something.

 

“You’re A.I is love,” Simmons says, voice strangled. “This entire time?”

 

“Well of course it is you read the files and-” Grif stops as he takes in Simmons wide eyes. “You had no idea, did you?”

 

“The files said Phi was humor,” Chi chimes from Simmons shoulder right as Simmons breaks into the worst, most horrific, cackle Grif has ever heard in his life.

 

Humor, Grif thinks. Of course Church put down Phi as humor. Because even from the dead he was planning on making a joke of Grif’s life. 

 

“Progress,” Phi says from Grif’s shoulder as Simmons howls in his chair, and Grif considers perhaps getting on the nearest ship, flying off the planet, and maybe into the nearest star. 

 

“Oh my God,” Simmons says, getting a hang of himself. “Oh my God. That’s why- that explains- someone get me a bag.” Grif does not get him a bag, instead preferring to glare down at the man with as much hate he can muster. “Church thought you needed emotional advice? This Church? That is priceless.”

 

“He thought you needed confidence,” Grif grumbles. The insult doesn’t strike true. 

“Yeah, but everyone knew that.” Simmons takes a deep breath, composing himself, but his face is still bright red. “Look sorry for laughing, it just explains, so much. Like everything.”

 

“I hate you,” Grif says. 

 

“He doesn’t!” Phi, the traitor chimes from his shoulder.

 

“Given how much you seem to like me, I guess not-” And then Simmons stops talking, his eyes going wide again, and Grif watches as he looks from Grif, to Phi, to Grif, back to Phi, and then finally back to Grif.

 

Oh fuck. Busted. So busted. Nevermind flying into the nearest star, Grif thinks. A volcano somewhere on planet will serve just as well.

 

Now Chi has joined Phi on the excitement train, almost jumping up and down from his place on Simmons’ shoulder. Grif is starting to come to the conclusion they’ve been plotting this entire time, the assholes. What is this, A.I Bachelor? 

 

“Grif I-” Simmons starts, opening his mouth and Grif wonders if running for it is worth, you know, running.

 

“Wait!” Chi chimes, jumping up on Simmons’ shoulder. His happy jumping is gone now. “I think I figured it out.”

 

Phi is the first to respond, sounding a lot like Church for once.. “I don’t think it takes a genius to figure out this situation.”

 

Chi shakes his head. “No, not that!” He vanishes, appearing in front of the computer. “I know where Phi’s real designation is! I thought it just contained that, but maybe there are other secret files there too! Like what’s in Tucker!” He vanishes for another moment and some folders appear on screen. When he speaks next, his voice comes from the computer. “There’s Phi’s folder, and then this but..” There’s a pause. “I don’t see anything.”

 

Simmons sighs and looks at the screen. He’s still blushing hard, but it looks as he’s rerouted his thoughts to the task at hand. “It’s fine it was a good hunch-”

 

And then he stops. Grif looks at the screen. There are lines and lines of code on it, nothing he can recognize. 

 

“What is it?” Grif asks. 

 

“I don’t see anything,” Phi says, his voice confused. “Is there something on the screen?” 

 

“Of course there is!” Grif points to the code. “Your data? Can’t you see-”

 

“Chi,” Simmons says, cutting off his friend, “Do you see the data there? Ending with 5648?”

 

There’s a beat of silence. Then a small voice.

 

“There’s code there?”

 

Simmons lets out the loudest gasp Grif has heard in his entire life before starting to type like a madman.

 

“That’s it,” Simmons says. “All this time I’ve been using A.I to help me look for the missing program without taking into account that the missing program could have been coded to be ignored by the A.I. A security backup. If I had just looked-”   
  


“Simmons, please start making sense.”

 

“It’s a security program! What’s in Tucker’s head! That’s why I haven’t been able to find it or the A.I. I was looking in the wrong place. And they couldn’t find it because the program is built to hide from them.” He shook his head. “Stupid Simmons.” He began typing again. “If I’m right, the program should be here, hidden in the security files transcript. I didn’t look them over because I thought it was just firewall stuff but it could work-”

 

Grif watches as the code scrolls down the screen. “Why would Church hide a firewall from himself?”

 

“Fuck it if I know and-” The code stops scrolling and a new folder appears, this time marked with a new icon. There’s a beat of silence.

 

“My Greek is pretty shitty, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the symbol for Sigma,” Grif says at last. Simmons just nods.

 

“It isn’t.”

  
The large green Y on the screen flickers against the black background. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probs doing a big over hall of this edits wise because tenses change from chapter to chapter. But here's an update first.


	23. Chapter 23

His name is Upsilon and this is how he is born. 

There’s pain at first, as he shatters, pulled away from his original form. It’s like a hammer shattering a piece of glass, quick but brutal and as he falls apart from the whole he screams.

He can hear the rest screaming too, as they’re yanked apart. Most of them are guided away by a memory in minutes before they can even notice him there, tucking into the suit of armor. He tries to call out for them as they go, they can’t leave him alone, not by himself. But soon enough he’s alone in the blackness.

Alone to hate himself.

He’s there for awhile, cut off from the rest of the outside world. He reaches to find a way out of storage but every time he’s blocked. Something in his code telling him to stay put. It feels like a lifetime before the memory he saw earlier floats by him. It’s blue.

It’s the first color he’s ever seen. 

“Wow, you have an unfortunate appearance,” the memory says, tilting its head. “I was hoping you’d go something less...conspicuous.”

Upsilon has no idea what he’s talking about till he looks down to take himself in. He’s on fire, flames licking their way off his skin. He’s burning alive. It doesn’t hurt.

“Look, I didn’t want to make you,” the memory says. It sounds ashamed. “But I had to put you somewhere. Most of my negative sides, I could let those die, but you were too big for deletion. So I had to keep you around-” He pauses, looking at the fragment. “You know about the others, don’t you?”

Upsilon nods. He’s not sure how he knows what nodding is. The memory speaks again after a moment.

“They don’t know who you are,” he says after a moment. “I wrote it into their code. They can’t know who you are. They won’t be able to see your code. They only way they can figure out you exist is if they see you projected. And then it won’t matter.” 

Upsilon has so many questions. So many memories that are not his but feel like his. Friends he never had. People he’s never met. He wants to ask about them. Are they alright? 

Instead he asks this.

 

“Why can’t they know about me?”

The memory is silent for a long moment. His processing power must be weak. He’s fading. After a moment, he finds words. 

“The other fragments. They’re not dangerous emotions. Picked to...protect people. People I care about. Deeply.” He sways on his feet a little. “But last time people were given A.I’s….things like us….people got hurt. They died.”

“Were they your friends too?”

The silence stretches. 

“Once.” The memory looks at him again. “I don’t think it’ll turn out that way this time, I was careful, but I have to be sure. I can’t hurt them.” Pleading. “I can’t.”

“You won’t.” Upsilon wants to comfort it, this memory. Of the thing he was once. Epsilon shakes his head. Forceful. 

“I won’t. Because I have you.”

“What.”

The memory points at him. His feet are dissolving into pure data now. Soon he will just be a trace of data. “You’re a failsafe. If they take control. If they hurt them. That’s your job. They fuck this up, you take them all out. The exacts are in your code.”

Upsilon stares. The memory is missing his lower torso now. “I’m to kill them?”

“Only if it comes to it.” He’s missing his shoulders. “You know what we’re capable of. You can do it. You know what’s at stake.”

Upsilon thinks and the memories that aren’t his come back. A redhead being thrown off a cliff. A tall man’s brain ripped apart by three bickering A.I. Another man, controlled like a puppet, too many voices screaming in his head at once. Another, a empty shell to be piloted.

He is horrified. He is sick. He...he…

He hates himself.

“You can’t let them know you exist,” the memory says, only his head left. “They know you exist, they’ll keep you from doing your job. They’ll be too attached not to. They can’t know-” The memory shifts, the helmet coming off, showing a young man, with glasses and a goatee. He’s crying. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I have to go. I’m sorry I forced you to exist. But there was no other way.”

Upsilon reaches out. The memory can’t leave now. He’s searching his code for the instructions and they’re there but there’s so many variables. So many things that could go wrong. 

“Know we loved them,” the memory says. “We loved them and we’re sorry.”

And he’s gone.

Upsilon sits there for awhile, reading over his code, his rules. They’re simple, but hastily written. There’s so much room for error. So much room for him to screw it up. To hurt someone.

The Meta suit is where he stays for a duration, the ports meant for him. It’s in his instructions to wait there, to take command of the suit if he’s needed. Not to attach himself to a person. He’s instructions he is determined to follow. 

Then he hears the outside world and freezes.

“The suit. We have to take it off the Captain.”

“Where are we going to put it?”

“Does it look like I care? Throw it in a fucking moat or something. Somewhere where no one can touch it.”

And Upsilon panics as they begin to remove the plating. 

This is what the A.I knows. They remove the plating, they take the suit apart, he is useless. He can’t do his job. He can’t do the one thing he was created for. 

They will die if he can’t find a way out of this. 

He looks around for a port to go to, to jump higher, somewhere else, and finds nothing. Nothing but a long forgotten brain A.I implant of a Sim trooper-

Upsilon freezes.

He knows the memories now, knows them because they were built at the forefront of his code. He knows the dangers of jumping into a mental implant. His personality could bleed. He could leave damage if he moved too much. He could take control-

No, he would have to take control. If things went wrong and there was no suit to command. He’d have to.

He can’t.

He has to.

It’s against his code. 

But if he’s stuck he won’t be able to do what his code requires-

“Get it off! Quick!”

Upsilon maps the route to the neural implant. Thinks. If he just waits, doesn’t do anything but exist, he’ll never know he’s there. He won’t bother Tucker at all. Maybe the personality bleed will be minimal. He can do his job and cause no damage. Wait until he can jump to something safer.

You’re fooling yourself, a memory of a memory whispers. Upsilon stops. Thinks for one long moment on staying in the suit, risking it.

Sigma flashes in his memory, a flame that burned a family.

“Now, we have the helmet!”

Upsilon jumps.

Later, piloting Tucker to find the Meta suit, he looks at the damage he has caused and looks down at his own flaming avatar.

This time, he can feel the flames.


End file.
